


DamijonWeek 2019 Day Four: Body Swap

by HappyDamijon



Series: DamijonWeek2019 [4]
Category: Super Sons (Comics)
Genre: Body Swap, Break Up, Damijonweek, Damijonweek2019, Day Four, Getting Back Together, I think?, M/M, Some angst, hopefully??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-08 13:03:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17386955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyDamijon/pseuds/HappyDamijon
Summary: DamijonWeek 2019 Day Four: Body SwapHis head hurts. Its pulsing, blood rushing in and out. Jon's body must be confused, unsure as to what's going on; why Jon isn't functioning correctly. It's only been an hour or so since he's been inside--or, since he's swapped bodies. He should be fine now, maybe even used to it, but it only seems to be getting worse as time passes. It frustrates him. He can't even be helpful like this. If anything, he's a damn liability. Of course this also has to happen just weeks after breaking up, as well. Like frosting on a cake. Which Damian hates.Or:Sometimes it's after the breakup that's the hardest.





	DamijonWeek 2019 Day Four: Body Swap

**Author's Note:**

> DamijonWeek 2019 Day Four: Body Swap
> 
> Okay so like here I go again taking something simple and twisting it into something almost unrecognizable :/
> 
> hopefully y'all like!!!!!

This is what it must feel to have power. 

Damian can feel it everywhere. It isn't something he can describe. How can he? There's no way to pinpoint how it feels, the word _power_ a feeling itself. It's like energy, constantly coursing through his veins. It's gravity not doing its job; he can feel it in the way he has to ground himself, constantly, to keep from floating away. He's simultaneously light and heavy; relaxed, yet compressed like a ball, ready to explode at any moment. He's sensitive everywhere: he can't see unless he concentrates; can't hear; can't touch without feeling like he can't bear the sensory overload. Everything requires an insane amount of concentration and focus. Even walking feels like a battle, constantly stumbling as if he's _drunk_. 

"Woah," his voice says to _him_. His voice unsurprisingly sounds different in Jon's ears, but he never knew his voice was that deep, serious. Even then, Jon's soul must be projecting more emotion than usual in that single sound. Hands hold him steady, and Damian shrugs out of his own body's hold. At least—it used to be his own. 

"I'm fine," Damian mumbles, Jon's voice never this deeply annoyed and troubled. It's almost funny that way, because of course only Damian would ever elicit that sort of response. Only this time, it's because he's speaking through him. "Don't touch me." 

Jon lets go. He keeps the body still. _Damian's_ body away. Damian's face, his skin and muscle and bone and overall _him_ , _his_ face, staring back at him in worry. They should be doing something, not standing around like nervous children. 

"No ones gotten back to me," Jon says, causing Damian to wince. Right, he can't concentrate _too_ hard on a single voice. "I—I wish I can help you. I just—you know, I was born with it, so—"

"Jon," he grits, covering his ears. Jon gets the message quickly enough, shutting up.

His head hurts. Its pulsing, blood rushing in and out. Jon's body must be confused, unsure as to what's going on; why Jon isn't _functioning_ correctly. It's only been an hour or so since he's been inside—or, since he's _swapped_ bodies. He should be fine now, maybe even used to it, but it only seems to be getting worse as time passes. It frustrates him. He can't even be helpful like this. If anything, he's a damn _liability_. Of course this also has to happen just weeks after breaking up, as well. Like frosting on a cake. Which Damian hates. 

Where was he going? The kitchen. He's starving. Is this how Jon feels all the time? Having to be in control all the time? Not only dealing with all these senses, but a massive headache and an insane appetite? 

He heads for the kitchen again, and Jon keeps a close watch on him the whole time, in case he stumbles. It wouldn't matter either way; it's not like he would _break_ something. Or perhaps he would. Is there a chance he could drop through the floor if he fell hard enough? He looks down at it, tilting his head. For a moment, his vision goes blurry. Great. Then, it grows almost watery, his pupils covering themselves with something, before he's looking _through_ the ground. Oh God, he's falling! He jumps, making a surprised noise as he begins to float. 

"Damian! Calm down!" Jon yells. Damian can see through _everything_. It seems to be glitching, this new vision going in and out. At certain points he can see through Jon, his original body, and then he remembers that he needs to _calm_ before he triggers something like _laser vision_. Come on, he's smart. He has excellent control over his damn _emotions_. He can handle this. Just get a grip, Damian! 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He goes stiff, keeping his arms and legs straight. After a moment, he falls, and he doesn't have time to think that maybe he shouldn't have done that, before someone else is catching him. When he opens his eyes, it's his own original face looking at him, flushed. Hey, he should _never_ look like that. 

"I...am a lot heavier than I thought," Jon mumbles, heaving as he carries Damian bridal style. Damian decides not to move. This is the most normal and relaxed he's felt since the...swap incident. 

"You are," Damian says tiredly, the exhaustion taking a toll on him. "One of the reasons why I never wanted you to _cuddle_ with me at night."

Jon snorts, setting Damian down on the couch. "Okay, first off, you cuddled with _me—_ "

"No I didn't."

"—and second, why are you trying to complain about my weight right now?" 

Damian closes his eyes, leaning heavily against the couch. He can feel Jon staring at him, but it's a feeling that he's used to, so it helps ground him a bit more. He doesn't know why he bothers to speak, they haven't bothered to have a normal conversation like this in so long. Why bother now? But perhaps it has to do with his exhaustion, maybe because his eyes are closed. Or maybe because he might have even _missed_ the guy. Who knows. 

"There are plenty of things I don't like about you," Damian says, swallowing a random lump in his throat. Must just be a weird reflex in Jon's body. "Like how nice you are to everyone, especially to people who don't deserve it. You only bother to brush your teeth once a day. You take showers that last longer than five minutes for no reason. You never shut the door or turn the lights off when you walk out of anywhere and yet you manage to always remember the most _useless_ things. You—"

"Well it's not like _you're_ perfect," Jon says, scooting away. Damian opens his eyes, but it's weird looking back at his own face. "I could happily go on about _your_ faults—"

"I know," Damian interrupts, looking up at the ceiling. He swallows another lump down. God, he can't seem to control _anything_. "You made that _quite clear_."

It's quiet. Or, as quiet as it can get for Damian. He focuses on his own breathing, and he's surprised to find that it helps. 

"As if you didn't also say hurtful things." 

Damian chuckles on accident. Really, he didn't mean to laugh out loud, but just knowing that Jon thinks they were even close to even that night is laughable. Sure, Damian did say _some_ things, but it was Jon that did the real damage. Who said what he really thought, without giving a damn about Damian in the process. 

"Why are you always like this?" Jon asks. Damian sighs loudly. "No, seriously. Are you really trying to say that you did nothing wrong?"

"I didn't say anything." 

"Don't play innocent, Damian."

"I'm not doing _anything_ ," Damian says exasperatedly. "It's you always starting the arguments! You're the one who's sensitive about everything."

" _I'm_ sensitive?" Jon says incredulously. "Okay, do we really need to look back at every single time you accused me of _cheating_? Of conspiring to break up with you? Of not loving you enough?"

"My suspicions turned out correct for the most part, didn't they?" 

Jon snaps his mouth shut. He looks at Damian with wet eyes, tears threatening to spill over. They don't. Damian doesn't know if his original body is naturally doing that, or if Jon is truly holding them back. 

"Well it's a good thing I'm not wasting your time anymore."

"Certainly," Damian replies. His headache is back. But he isn't done with Jon. The conversation should be over, but Damian feels he hasn't said enough. He hasn't gotten his point across. Hell, he feels he hasn't hurt Jon enough. Not like Jon hurt him. And this isn't right, Damian knows better than this, he's smarter than this, but there's that ugly heavy feeling in his chest that won't go away. There's a bitter part in him that says that Jon is doing better than him, and that's not okay. It's not. It's...

It's not right. To want to hurt Jon. 

"...I..." Damian rubs his face. He needs to say what he truly feels. Not what his anger says. He needs to go to the root of the problem; the part that is layered with superficial anger and envy. The part that is still raw and isn't ready to be revealed; to heal. He doesn't want to expose himself, because who knows what Jon will do with it. Who knows what Jon will say, but he loves Jon. Of course he loves him. "...I do...miss you." I'm sorry. For everything. I'm sorry that I'm saying this now. I'm sorry it's easier to do this in your body, where I won't have to look you in the eye. 

Jon plays with his fingers. Then he closes his eyes, letting them go. 

"Not right now Damian. That's a conversation for...when we're ready."

"I miss you a lot," Damian continues. "I don't want to talk when we're back to our original selves. I'm saying this once." He takes a deep breath. He needs to get it off his chest, then he could move on. Go forward with his life. Maybe he could even be friends with Jon, in the far off future. "I love you. I love you more than myself—"

"Damian _please—_ "

"—and I think about you everyday. I think about who makes you happy, who you bother to touch. About how hard you tried to love me but I...kept pushing you away."

"I do. I— _Damian_. You can't—you have to realize how _hard_ this is for me."

"I'm sorry," Damian finally says, grinding his teeth. He swallows the lump, but this time it stays, persistent. "I'm sorry for everything. We were never a good idea, and I knew that. I've known that. I love you, Jon, and I don't mean to hurt you but I do. When this is reversed, whenever it is, I just want you to know that you won't see me. For...a good amount of time. I don't want you to think it's to hurt you, or it's out of spite—"

"You're an asshole," Jon says. Damian stops, pausing to look at him. He's crying silently, tears rolling down his face. He didn't know Jon was crying. It's good he did it like this. It's easier to watch his own face cry. He wouldn't be able to bear it if it were Jon's.

He's about to apologize, maybe even excuse himself out of the room when Jon leans in and hugs him. He hugs Damian tightly, crying into his shoulder. 

"We're talking whether you like it or not," Jon says, his voice muffled, but Damian can hear it perfectly. He can even hear the tears, if he concentrates hard enough, falling down onto his shirt. They land with a faint splat. "You don't get to have the last say. You don't get to not look me in my own eyes and say this." 

"Jon—"

Jon lifts his head. He gives a quick kiss before pulling away fully. He wipes at his tears, standing up. 

"You're not a coward," he says. He clears his throat. "And you don't...you're not allowed to give up on me like that." 

Damian watches him leave. He goes to the kitchen, out of Damian's sight. Damian doesn't know how to use the x-ray vision, but he doesn't want it anyway. 

Jon is right.

Jon is always right. 

**Author's Note:**

> Alright ah short but hopefully not too bad? Thanks for reading, and until tomorrow!


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